


Persuasion

by Kuukkeli



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Chair Sex, Fluff, M/M, MTMTE, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2393192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><a href="http://dataglitch.tumblr.com/">Dataglitch</a> has some wonderful headcanons about SG!Misfire of being dead serious and the best sniper ever. I threw in my headcanon about SG!Fulcrum's colors; read, silver and yellow, with his optics being lime green. Donno if they fit him... Oh well. Plus, he's braver and very outgoing. :) Enjoy some Misfire/Fulcrum schmoop because these dorks are so adorable~</p>
    </blockquote>





	Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> [Dataglitch](http://dataglitch.tumblr.com/) has some wonderful headcanons about SG!Misfire of being dead serious and the best sniper ever. I threw in my headcanon about SG!Fulcrum's colors; read, silver and yellow, with his optics being lime green. Donno if they fit him... Oh well. Plus, he's braver and very outgoing. :) Enjoy some Misfire/Fulcrum schmoop because these dorks are so adorable~

“Oh, come on, Misfire. It’d be boring for me to go alone. Pretty please?” Fulcrum crooned to the blue mech who sulked at his console typing a report that needed to be given to Krok yet today, the red arms snaking to rest over the sniper’s chest.

“Not now, Fulcrum. Can’t you see I’m busy? Now beat it”, the other mech snapped, not taking his gaze from the screen as his fingers danced across the keyboard, not missing a key.

The red mech halted at the harsh tone, his arms leaving Misfire’s chest to fall beside their owner’s body. “Sorry. Not going to disturb you anymore”, the technician said, trying to hide his disappointment, though his EM field sank, betraying his attempts of covering the change of his mood. He turned to walk away when his hand was grabbed firmly and tugged towards the mech still sitting.

Fulcrum was pulled into the blue mech’s lap, the hands landing on the small of his back, keeping him there. “I hate it when you do that.”

The technician gave a shy smile and planted a kiss on the bridge of Misfire’s nose, continuing his journey to the left cheek, down to the jaw, chin and finally to the lips, taking his time, the scent of the sniper lingering in his olfactory sensors.

The sensation of their lips sealed and the scent started getting to Fulcrum’s head, his lips opening and his tongue flicking the blue mech’s bottom lip, encouraging the other.

“No, Fulcrum. We don’t have time for this. I have to write the rep–”

“Shut up. I don’t care.”

With that, Fulcrum locked their lips again, hungry for more contact, hungry for more touch, hungry for Misfire. And to be honest, who was Misfire to deny when such an opportunity presented itself to have some alone time with his lover. Lowering his hands to the red aft, he explored the plating, the seams and gaps there, occasionally dipping his fingers to get a better feel of the wiring beneath. As doing so, he earned a surprised gasp from the mech in his lap, a smug smirk creeping on his face. That’s right, that was _his_ doings.

Fulcrum would scream his name and his name _only_.

The red mech sighed, a content purr vibrating his body gently. “Hnn, keep doing that.”

“That’s the plan. A plan to which we’re going to add some variables.”

Chuckling, the technician wrapped his arms over the other’s shoulders, nuzzling the willingly exposed neck, kissing and nibbling in turn, eliciting a deep moan as he found particularly sensitive spot right under Misfire’s chin. When he felt the hands on his aft squeeze a little rougher, he shifted his hips a little closer to the blue pelvis, the platings grinding against each other delightfully.

“Nnh... Fulcrum...”

“Mmh?” the red mech hummed, his lips still against the neck he loved to worship.

“If we keep going, there’s no return.”

“Does it have to end now?” An honest question.

Apparently not as Misfire opened his panel, his semi-erect spike extending behind Fulcrum. Upon hearing the quiet ‘snikt’, Fulcrum let his own panel slide aside, revealing his spike already jutting between them.

“Move so I can...” the sniper murmured, gesturing Fulcrum to scoot back a little so their spikes were right next to one another, though keeping their bodies as close each other as possible.

Grasping the spikes into his hand, Misfire gave a few lazy strokes, rolling his thumb over the heads before repeating the tender pumping. The red mech moaned, resting his head against his love’s shoulder, hugging him closer.

Misfire’s hand was becoming slicker and the sounds Fulcrum uttered were music to his audios, driving him on to give the red mech what he wanted. The way the body on his lap squirmed when he tweaked the heads of their spikes, the wanton moans and pleas that escaped those perfect lips and the fluctuation and rippling of Fulcrum’s field, entangling and swirling with ever-growing pleasure were almost too much for him to bear.

Every now and then the technician would gasp and tighten his arms around the strong blue shoulders as his spike was given divine attention.

Suddenly Fulcrum shivered in the first waves of his approaching overload, his lime green optics flying wide open. He opened his other panel and rose just enough to align the blue and gray spike with his valve. “Overload inside me”, he breathed and seated himself back down, a loud, shameless moan slipping past his lips.

Not resisting, Misfire bucked his hips to nudge the roof of Fulcrum’s valve, his mouth falling open in a silent groan, his lips forming a soft ‘O’ as he was enveloped by the unprepared and hot port. Sinking a bit in his chair, the sniper found a better position to hit home deeper, appreciating the sight of Fulcrum smiling down at him and settling on a frantic pace to achieve both of their overloads.

Not going to let the red mech do all the work, Misfire thrust up every time Fulcrum came down, his spike brushing every single sensor cluster within the wet valve, the valve clenching around the shaft.

The technician crushed their lips together, moaning into the kiss, mouths fighting for dominance, tongues gliding against each other. When the blue mech hit one specific node, Fulcrum tensed up, thus breaking the kiss, his mouth gaping. Another hit to that same node and the red mech let the overload take him, his face a text book definition for pleasure as he felt a hot rush of transfluids painting him inside.

With their bodies so close together there was no space except for the results of their shared coupling, Fulcrum panted and his vents roared to cool down his systems.

“So... how ‘bout that drink?” he asked after a whole minute of silence, their cooling fans settled back to their normal low hum and bodies recovered from the most intense overload for a long time, Misfire still buried in him.

“No, thank you. I’m fine with this”, the blue mech smiled and kissed the other, his field mingling with Fulcrum’s, filling their hab suite with satisfaction, safety and warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, dear... When/how did this turn into PWP...?


End file.
